Miles Past Gone
by Nerdyesque
Summary: The ubiquitous "they" always say history is circular and we're doomed to repeat it. Does it always have to be a bad thing? Veronica certainly doesn't think so. Futurefic LoVe story. COMPLETE.
1. The Art of Living

**A/N: I am working on two chapters right now (_Immutable Power_ and _The Friend Zone_) when this little gem popped into my head. I quickly wrote it down so I could return to my more pressing stories, but there was something almost Zen writing this particular piece; the idea of using quotes between each section is from another VM fic I read the other day. I really liked how the author used it, so I'm emulating it (I would credit the author or piece by name but I can't remember right now). This is a future fic with vague allusions to all three seasons. Enjoy.**

**Inspiration: "Criminal" & "Shadowboxer" by Fiona Apple**

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><p><em>All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on – Henry Ellis<em>

I stared at the phone with trepidation, wondering how I was going to make this call. I knew he would answer, as he always did, but I hated to hear the disappointment in his voice once I broke the news, even though I was of age and years past being a disobedient daughter. I'd been sitting by my bed for the past three hours trying to rev up the courage to dial the number I knew by heart.

The ringing peal of "Back in Black" startled me from my spiraling thoughts and I drew a breath as this was the_ other_ man in my life I had no desire to tell about the life-changing curve I'd been thrown. If I didn't answer, he would think something was wrong, but if I _did_ answer, he'd _know_ something was wrong. It wasn't the first time I'd been between a rock and a hard place with him, but this was probably the first time when he had nothing to do with what was going so wrong in my life, and I suddenly fiercely wished I could blame him instead of a tequila fueled night of self-doubt and self-pity. It would be normal in a world suddenly gone crazy.

"I wake you?"

His voice was warm and whiskey-rough in my ears, a soothing combination I'd grown used to hearing again on a near daily basis since we decided nearly twenty years of knowing one another in every conceivable way precluded walking away like it meant nothing. This time, however, there were no romantic entanglements between us, just other people, and I told myself it was better this way.

I'd said this for the past two years since he first started dating Samantha and it went from a bar hookup into a serious relationship. It was his first since we broke each other in college, and I kept telling anyone who'd listen, I was happy for him. I _was_.

"I live in the city that never sleeps, so naturally I don't either."

It wasn't the truth of course, but right now truth wasn't something I was too fond of. My fingers clenched around the plastic wand in my hand, the knowledge it imparted as dangerous as a stick of dynamite. In fact right now I'd prefer it so then I wouldn't have to face the reality of my decision because I'd be scattered across the tri-state area in little itty bitty pieces of gristle and bone.

"Always with the chasing bad guys. You're being careful?"

The concern was familiar and careworn, but there wasn't the frantic edge I hated when we dated, but missed now he was no longer mine. I hadn't realized just how much I'd always counted on him to have my back in any situation until he showered someone else with his love and attention, and left me with the dregs of friendship. He'd still do whatever he could to help me of course, but he rightfully put someone else first, an action I wasn't used to. I'd always come first with him. _Always_.

"When aren't I careful?"

My voice caught on the last syllable as I continued to stare at the two pink lines delineating my old life from the potential of a new one. It wasn't something I ever planned or even thought about, but now I had a very short window of time to determine which path I took; did I dare take Robert Frost's advice and take the road less traveled? Where would it lead? Could I really do it alone?

"I know you better than that. You sound weird. Are you okay? You and Ted having problems?"

No, Ted _and_ I weren't having problems. It was more like _I_ was having problems _caused_ by Ted. He was a hot-shot architect, his dark good looks and bad boy attitude instantly attracting me, almost comforting in some strange way, lessening the extreme homesickness I'd experienced since I moved to the East Coast. Despite our very different approaches to life, we somehow connected in a way I hadn't with any man since college. During the honeymoon period of our relationship, I'd given into Ted's urging and moved into his apartment, something I knew still stung my caller because I never committed that much to him in all our years together. When I broke the news about my new address, he stopped talking to me for five months; the next time we spoke, he had a new girlfriend.

"Not any more. We broke up."

I was used to life and death situations, fiery conclusions that dictated the tenor of my relationships, but my end with Ted was simple, a few packed boxes, a sad nod to one another, then a closed and locked door. At first I assumed my nausea and depression was due to failing at keeping yet another man happy, but eventually I took my head out of my ass and realized what else might be causing the same symptoms. It actually saddened me for that to be the cause of my emotional upheaval; I'd spent better part of three years with him, yet I felt more regret for the man who came before him then I did for Ted.

"Why you break things off with him? I thought things were getting _serious."_

Now the timbre of his voice changed, from honeyed smoothness to pitying curiosity . I grimaced at the tone because I knew he must've heard about Ted's proposal from either Mac or Wallace. It had happened on my twenty-ninth birthday and something that honestly shocked me; I rarely if ever thought about changing my title from "Miss" to "Mrs" and was surprised he had. I assumed Ted was like me, content to be happy together, not desiring happily ever after.

"Please. Veronica Mosby just sounds absurd."

The thought of me as Mrs. Mosby was more than absurd, it was terrifying. What did I know about being a wife other than the fine examples I grew up around: cheaters, liars, drunks and drug addicts? The last man I even entertained the idea of marrying had run off to a foreign country to hide his secret illegitimate baby with a dead girl from her soulless abusive parents. Was it any wonder why marriage was anathema to me?

"At least you wouldn't have changed your initials; you'd still be VM."

A wry smile curved my lips and for the first time in a week I felt amusement. It always bewildered me how he could play my emotions, turning me away from my darker more destructive side and bring me back with a quip or friendly banter. It was a quality I hadn't appreciated until it was much much too late. A muffled voice in the background reminded me of the cost of always needing to be right, of being in control. Look what control had gotten me: an uncertain future without the one person who meant as much as my dad at my side.

"Nah, what would the world be without a Veronica Mars in it?"

It was a strange to me, rethinking the decisions of my life. Hindsight wasn't something I indulged in often because there were too many instances in my past where things could've gone completely different and it was insanity-inducing to even try to contemplate the possible results of those decisions. I had to stick to the road I _had_ taken and be satisfied with the scenery. I rested my head back against the bed's edge and just listened to my heartbeat, wondering if I would be able to hear the second one beneath my breasts if I were really really quiet.

"A world I wouldn't want to live in."

Tears pressed against the back of my closed eyelids at the softly voiced comment. He wasn't often sweet, at least to me, and right now I could use a little dose of it. I felt like I'd just jumped from a plane and discovered my parachute wouldn't open and the ground was coming up fast. It was a stupid analogy but right now the only thing keeping me from screaming and never stopping was his voice. This wasn't the first time he'd saved me, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but it was nice it didn't involve violence or the police. A change in subject was necessary before I gave away my emotional state.

"I'm coming home for Thanksgiving this year."

I hadn't originally intended to go back to Neptune, a place I'd visited a handful of times since I fled it so ignominiously for the Bureau, always carefully timed with his trips away. It was much easier to be friendly with him via electronic equipment than in person, though I'd never admit it. Dad, Mac, Wallace, and even Weevil one very memorable time, had made it out for various holidays over the years, but never stopped asking me to move back to California. I'd never anticipated it, but I discovered no matter where I lived, it wasn't home. Apparently home really was where your heart was and it resided on the West Coast.

"I'm sorry I'm going to miss you. We're flying to Oregon so I can meet her folks."

I couldn't breathe for a moment and nearly dropped the phone. It occurred to me that in all our years as friends, enemies, and lovers, I'd never envisioned him as a separate person: we were always "ands" for each other. In so many ways, it's always been our show and everyone else just players on our stage; even the other women he invariably collected were stop-gaps until our next reconciliation. Lilly and I were the only two he'd ever been serious enough about to meet the parents, though in Lilly's case, he knew them before they dated. Hannah's dad never counted because he'd been a pawn in a power struggle he'd been stupid enough to get caught up in due to his drug addiction. Samantha, however, marked a shift in the dynamic of our relationship and I felt panic at this evidence of him being irrevocably out of my reach. It was in this moment I realized I'd assumed in the pit of my heart he'd be there patiently waiting for me to end things with Ted, waiting for me to come back to him as I always did.

"Too bad. There's always next year."

Next year, however, might bring unexpected surprises and suddenly my heartache over him faded beneath renewed onslaught of worrying over my current predicament. Maybe it was better he moved on, especially if I decided to keep the baby. One of the many reasons why we worked as a couple was our mutual lack of desire for kids; even if he decided to marry Samantha, I very much doubted babies would be in the cards for them because he was so terrified of becoming his father. I took my eyes off the pregnancy test and looked at my still-flat belly through the tank top. I didn't notice much difference in my body yet, other than my breasts were extremely tender and I had that whole morning sickness deal going on (though to be honest, it was more _all day_ sickness).

"You always say that, yet I never actually see you other than pictures or web cam. You avoiding me, Mars?"

When had we slipped to last name basis? He was the only one left who called me "Ronnie," mostly because I hadn't seen Duncan in the intervening twelve or so years and Dick was threatened with bodily harm if he ever used it again. It was one more thing I hadn't noticed until it was gone. If these hormonal wash of desolation was part of the pregnancy experience, maybe I'd be better off not going through with it; though these thoughts weren't new and I've missed him more than I could bear to admit.

"You know where I've been living. You could've come visited me."

I wondered who I was kidding. He knew as well as I it was better to never see each other again without benefit of plastic, metal, and a thousand miles between us. The madness that existed between us just needed fifteen minutes of shared space before we were raging out of control, whether in anger, love, or passion; with us, they were one and the same. All emotions sprang from the eternal well of violence where bloodshed and ruined lives seemed commonplace. His epic speech had a starring role in my dreams from time to time, though the end was different, the figurative me embracing him instead of running away as I have most of our lives. Alterna-Prom was one of the top three moments in time I wished I could change.

"Guess my invitation got lost in the mail."

I recognized this tone; despite the distance and years, I still knew him better than anyone else, even his bar bunny girlfriend. Like me, he used humor and sarcasm to shield a multitude of deeper and darker emotions, and our last fight was never resolved, his accusations still staining the uncleared air between us. By the time he reached out to me after that last epic battle, I'd moved lock stock and legally smoking barrel to New York, intent on leaving him behind once and for all. Ted came into my life shortly after and there was nothing left to say to change our past and the certainty of no future. At least I thought so until today, huddled on the floor, wishing I didn't feel the life growing inside was a betrayal of some covenant I'd made with him before I was old enough to know better. It was always him, and I truly feared, it _always_ would be him.

"I'm thinking of quitting my job."

I don't know why I blurted such a blatant lie. Well, more of a half-truth since it was one more decision I needed to make, but a sense of rightness settled around me and I realized I hadn't been happy in the Bureau for a while now. Maybe ever. I hated New York, I hated the East Coast, and I just wanted to come home.

"I'm going to propose to Samantha and I want her father's blessing."

My mouth opened, though no sound emerged. What could I say? I understood exactly why he'd feel it important to ask the father's permission: he was still raw after all these years about my dad never truly accepting him as suitable boyfriend material. He'd probably get it because his new girlfriend's parents didn't know him since he was twelve or see him through devolution into a drunken smart-ass troublemaker who spent a good portion of his teen years in and out of jail. Of course, not all those times were strictly his fault, as I had a hand in a few of those trips, but it didn't matter to Papa Mars. I wondered if I should tell him Dad had never really approved of any boys I dated, or men for that matter, but knew it was a moot point. He was giving his name to someone else.

"Congratulations. I'm...happy...for you."

The words shredded my throat and mouth, each syllable coated in heart's blood, but I would be damned first before letting him know how much it hurt. It wasn't fair for me to hate him, just a little, for being able to truly move on when I was the one who always left him first. Just like Lilly.

"I also have other news; I'm pregnant."

I bit my tongue and silently slammed my forehead against my knees. Just when I thought I could have a mature conversation with him, my well-honed sense of vengeance kicked in so I could carve my pound of flesh from him to match the wound in me. I had no doubt he cared for, maybe even loved Samantha, but an inviolate part of him would always belong to me, and it was this part I was trying to stab with the truth. Truth is always a tricky slope for me, but useful when needed as a weapon against others.

His indrawn breath was followed by profound silence which made me feel even more ashamed than I already was. I wasn't even sure I wanted to keep it, and this moment already proved I wouldn't be a better mother than my own since I was willing to use my child's existence to create pain for someone else. This might be the sign I was waiting for to help me decide before it was too late.

"I better go. It's getting late – so, uh, congrats again on your pending engagement. We'll talk later."

I missed the snap of closing a cell phone or the drama of a slammed receiver into a cradle. The anticlimax of pressing a touch screen button denied me a certain flair I felt should accompany my crass announcement. If I went through with the abortion, there was absolutely no reason for him to know about it, or anyone really. And if I _did_ decide to keep it, both my family and the baby daddy – oh how I cringed at the title – should be informed first. But of course, the best laid plans of mice and Mars, never go smoothly.


	2. Aristotle's Concept of Friendship

**A/N: The story – originally intended to be part of my "Flash in the Pan" series – turned out to be a lot longer than expected, so I split it up into chunks because I felt like it was too long to read in one sit down. Of course, that's the type of reader _I_ am, so naturally I imposed my will upon the rest of you. **

**Inspiration: "Rolling in the Deep" & "Rumor Has It" by Adele**

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><p><em>Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies – Aristotle <em>

I stepped off the plane and slowly walked up the gangplank towards the waiting area. I wasn't looking forward to seeing my father, no matter how much I missed him, because I still hadn't told him about the bulge. Er, baby. In the end I couldn't go through with an abortion, though it wasn't for any religious or even moral reasons. It just felt like it would create a third strike on the cosmic scoreboard and I really would be out of the game; there's no real tangible reason, but I woke up one morning with Lilly's voice in my ears telling me this was my last chance to get it right.

Get _what_ right, I had no clue, but more than a decade after her death, I dutifully followed her advice and canceled my appointment. I knew I needed to inform Ted of his upcoming fatherhood, but I developed a sudden allergy to using my phone for personal reasons and avoided the subject of motherhood with everyone. Now, walking towards the baggage claim, I realized this wasn't the best plan since my nearest and dearest would soon know; being as tiny as I am, even a four month bulge was very noticeable unless bundled up. While that worked in New York due to the temperatures, I knew November in sunny California would make my parka unnecessary. Maybe they'll think I just gained a lot of weight?

"Veronica Mars."

His voice was warm and whiskey-rough as always and my skin rippled with gooseflesh, peaking my nipples beneath the three layers I wore. The doctor told me increased sexual sensitivity was a normal reaction in some women and apparently I'm one of the lucky ones. Or it could just be him. He's always had this control over my body which used to terrify me back in the good bad ole days of sexual repression and dysfunction. He was probably the best lover a girl with my past could have because he was patient and gentle when I needed, and hard and fierce when I wanted.

"Logan Echolls as I live and breathe! Like, oh my god, can I get your autograph?"

My breathless impression of a star-struck fan amused him enough to curve his lips into a half-smile, but his chocolate eyes were assessing my body with clinical detachment. I self-consciously crossed my arms across my belly, then flushed when a dark brow flicked upward in contempt. I turned my back to him and watched the spinning carousel for my bags, waiting for him to walk away and do whatever it was that brought him to the airport, though it was a little strange for him to be here in the arrivals section instead of departure.

"I'm here to pick you up, Ronnie. Your dad had an emergency and I was the only one who was free."

I faltered as I reached for my bag, almost tipping over, but his hands on my waist steadied me. His touch tightened as he reeled me back, then his long arm retrieved my bags before they spun away. I still had the same luggage set my dad bought me for a long-ago trip to New York so I wasn't surprised he knew they were mine. I mumbled thanks and tried to free the handles from him, but he stepped back and nodded towards the exit.

"Since when are you and my dad chummy?"

I knew I looked ridiculous with my hands on my hips, especially given I was dressed like a miniature Stay Puff Marshmallow man, but I feared getting into a vehicle with him given my crazy hormones. Logan the boy always looked good, but Logan the man was amazing: his long legs were encased in black slacks, a green pull over sweater brought out the darkness of his eyes, and his honey blond hair had darkened to a light brown which was cut short. His skin wasn't the rich teak of long lazy hours spent in the sun, but the golden bronze implied he was still a beach boy beneath the more conservative clothing. I had felt the strength of his upper body in the brief moment of disorientation and smelled the expensive cologne he wore. He looked nothing like the boy I loved for so long and tears suddenly filled my eyes as I finally grasped exactly what I'd done when I'd run away years ago. It was one thing to see him electronically and quite another to see him in person.

"Ronnie," the helpless tone of a man unprepared for tears. "Are you mad? I know we haven't talked in a while, but I figured you wouldn't mind me picking you up. Especially since Keith doesn't know about..."

It was a measure of my muddled thinking – pregnancy brain a friend termed it jokingly – that the only thing I latched onto was the fact he called my dad by his first name. In our teen years, it was always "Sheriff" or "Dude," and when we dated in college, "Mr. Mars." I knew it was stupid of me to think everything would be the same when I came home, but this moment was a glaring reminder of how much things had changed. Dad would never let Logan call him "Keith" unless he respected him, and Logan would never dare to do so unless invited, even privately to me. I had missed so much of their lives being on the other side of the country, and now I felt like an interloper. Dad never mentioned spending time with Logan and vice versa. Of course, both would probably (and rightly) assume I'd freak out about them connecting without me to run interference; I shifted uneasily at the memories of the few dinners with the three of us and how uncomfortable they all were.

"Are we now doing the silent treatment? Jesus, Ronnie, I'm sorry I thought I'd help out."

I blinked when I realized we were in the parking garage of the airport, standing before a black sleek car I'd never seen before. I vaguely remember Logan talking about finally giving up Big Yellow, but it never registered until now. It definitely seemed as if all traces of _my_ Logan were gone.

"What? No. Damn hormones. Yeah, thanks. Is Dad okay?"

He chuckled at my disjointed reply and automatically opened my car door for me, refraining from answering me until he'd put my bags in the trunk and he sat in the driver's side. Logan was the only guy I knew who was unthinkingly courteous like that, a direct influence of his long-deceased mother. It was one of the few traits of hers I could think about fondly. I had never expressed my anger and disgust at her distance and indifference to her son's situation because of how much Logan revered her after her death. I knew he harbored his own anger towards her, but it was buried beneath his lethal rage towards his father, so he probably didn't realize it existed. If it still did; I didn't know this incarnation so perhaps he'd gotten therapy like I did and worked out his parental issues. I wanted to ask but knew it wasn't my business any more.

"He's fine. It's just the annual PCH Bike Rally, but it was bigger than anticipated, so he felt he needed to go up to the Ridge with a few of the deputies to keep an eye on the bikers. You know, make sure they don't get out of hand."

Dad was reinstated as Sheriff nearly two years after losing to Vinnie Van Low, when it was discovered what close ties the former slimy PI had with the Irish mob. He'd held onto the post ever since and it was something I was really relieved about because it was my fault he lost it in the first place. It only seemed fitting he was residing over the town he gave blood, sweat, and tears to for so many years in both public and private ways. I squirmed a little as my own culpability in some of his troubles flashed through my head, like the scenery out the window as we started the drive through LA towards Neptune.

"I'm not mad, I'm just surprised you're still in town. I figured you'd be in Portland already."

I saw a familiar motion from the corner of my eye and turned my head to see him ruffling his hair with his hand. It was a sure sign of uneasiness, something I was surprised to see. Apparently not _all_ of my Logan was gone.

"Uh, yeah, about that..."

I turned enough so I could prop my back against the window and face him almost squarely. Little by little, the careful illusion of a different man were eroding as he continued to reveal bits of the boy I knew. He only used this tone when he was trying to figure out a way to lie; we both were accomplished liars, but strangely never to each other, probably because of the deep and rich history between us precluded the ability to fully hide when we'd already exposed so much. At least when we were together and could see as well as hear; over the phone, it was a different story.

"Spit it out."

The suspense was eating at me because I sensed a story behind the white-lipped silence now weighing heavily on us. Our conversation so far was conducted in fits and starts, but this would probably open the flood-gates.

"Samantha gave me an ultimatum: either you or her. Since I didn't answer her right away, she uninvited me to her parents for Thanksgiving."

The bottom of my stomach dropped away at the thought of him being forced to choose. It was without a doubt going to be her; he hated being pushed into the corner and was contrary enough to do the exact opposite just to piss the person off, but it didn't necessarily mean he didn't agree. He'd just wanted to get to the same conclusion on _his_ terms. It was something that had always angered me about him, but now it scared me; even when I told him years ago he was out of my life for good, I hadn't actually meant it. It was just a knee-jerk reaction to the situation at the time and shortly thereafter we were back together as a couple, proving I didn't always follow through with my convictions. Logan, on the other hand, never issued a warning or threat lightly.

"But _why_? She had to know you were close to proposing. Every girl knows."

The sardonic lift of the brow had me huffing in disgust. I was different because I never thought of marriage, at least to Ted, so it really did blindside me. Logan, on the other hand, was an incurable romantic and would've dropped broad hints in his excitement. It used to both irritate and amuse me when he would try to surprise me with a sweet gesture because he couldn't keep a secret; at least not once I figured out how to read his body language.

"I was really fucking pissed when you told me about..." he waved a hand in the general direction of my belly, "and she somehow got the idea I wasn't over you. We've fought over the last few weeks and she snapped when I agreed to pick you up, saying it proved her point."

My mouth hung open in shock at Samantha's completely inaccurate reading of the situation. While a part of Logan would always love me, just like a part of him loved Lilly, we were in the past and she was his future, no matter how I wished otherwise. Epic love stories aside, Logan had moved on to the point of _marriage_ with this chick and she was stupid enough to throw him away? I was incensed at the waste.

"But...but...she has to know we used to be friends and are only now finding our way back to that? I mean, I live on the other side of the damn country. Did she think you'd seduce me when I'm pregnant with another man's child when I came home for a quick trip?"

I could understand her jealousy and anger if I lived close by; exes are always something to be leery of, as shown by my mother's history, but this was beyond the pale. True Logan and I talked nearly every day, but it was strictly platonic. He was too damaged by his father's infidelities and Lilly's to ever subject anyone he dated to the same humiliation. I was never concerned about him cheating on me; it was his insecurity, not mine, when we were together. The basis of my own fears were sexual in nature because I always worried I wasn't enough for him in bed or he'd get tired of my hangups and want someone more experienced. It was one of the reasons why I reacted so badly to him sleeping with Madison while we were broken up Freshman year. She was everything he hated in girls except for her sexual appetite, something he enjoyed exploiting when he was single. Of course it turned out she took advantage of his drunken state, but at the time, I couldn't forgive him for sleeping with one of the people I blamed for my rape.

"Apparently," the word crunched through his gritted teeth. His jaw relaxed a little as he admitted, "she found some old journals I kept when we used to date and I guess the silly wench read through them. Some of the things I wrote upset her because she claims I don't think of her the same way."

_Journals ? _How had I missed him writing in _journals_? Exactly how far back did these go? Logan wasn't stupid by any means, don't get me wrong, but he also tended towards laziness and sloth except when he was riding the waves or focused on me. It was both flattering and slightly frightening how much he depended on me while we dated, as if I were the keeper of his happiness. No one, much less a screwed up girl like me, should be the focus of someone's life to the point I was for him. Since we broke up for the last time, he fell into acting, big surprise there, and made a name for himself independent of his notorious family as a television star. I would never tell him I faithfully watched his show and thought he had deft comedic timing, but then it wasn't a shocker given his natural propensity for witty banter.

"You actually know how to write? I mean, pen to paper with your own original thoughts instead of ripping off _Easy Rider _?"

We shared a brief grin at the pointed reminder of how he cheated the win to the essay contest and ignored the fatal sequence of events that followed. It wouldn't be a trip down memory lane in Neptune if it didn't include murder, general mayhem, and bloodshed; one more reason why I never made it to our ten year class reunion.

"It was a long time ago. I stopped writing when..."

Again he trailed off, but I didn't need him to finish the sentence as well versed as I was in deciphering his silences and half-uttered thoughts. He stopped writing when I left for a new life I had decided was more important than him. I wanted to read his journals in the worst way, but at the same time I didn't. I had no desire to read his anger and despair over our countless break ups or about his conquests in bed in between and after.

"So, have you, uh talked to her?"

Logan's jaw tightened in a fascinating way, the muscles of his face rippling with the force of his irritation. I was a little ashamed at the flash of jealousy lancing through me; until now, only I'd managed to put that look on his face. How sad was I to bemoan his _anger_ at someone else? I stared down at my belly and focused my blame there. Obviously it was the bulge's fault for driving me batty with stupid misplaced emotions. I wasn't usually this...marshmallowy.

"She left yesterday and hasn't responded except for a text letting me know she got there safely."

I nodded absently then looked out the window. Apparently he'd found the perfect girlfriend who, even while pissed at him, still let him know she got some place okay. I wondered if she ever found his concern stifling like I did and tried to evade it by lying to him about her whereabouts. Nah, probably not.

"Guess you found a keeper, eh? Someone who actually enjoys being kept under house arrest."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could recall them. Spiteful jealousy, judgment, and anger – yup, I was back in Neptune alright, even if we hadn't actually hit the town limits yet.

"So, how did Ted react to the news of being a daddy?"

The venomous tone was familiar, the sally a shot over my bow letting me know he was willing to bring out the big guns. He knew, even if I hadn't talked to him since dropping my baby bomb on him, that I hadn't spoken to my ex. Oh sure, I halfheartedly tried to let Ted know, but when he didn't return my phone calls, I didn't exactly try to track him down. Or email him. Or send him a letter. Or hell, leave a "I'm pregnant with your baby" voicemail. I was terrified of having this child, of being a parent, yet I didn't try to inform the man who _wanted_ to the whole picket fence thing. I'd found out quite abruptly when he proposed that the bad boy facade was one I'd constructed in my head and had intentionally blinded myself to his normalcy. I wanted him to be more Logan than Duncan.

"What are we doing? We can talk rationally and like actual adults when we're on opposite coasts, but not in person? What does that say about our friendship?"

I leaned against the glass, appreciating the chill against my overheated skin. My hand slipped to my stomach and I undid the coat, suddenly tired of trying to hide. I'd been forced to buy a pair of maternity jeans before I left New York because none of my pants fit any more and this coat was too warm for the temperate climate of the West Coast. I unclipped my belt and quickly shrugged out of the parka and tossed it into the back. I ignored Logan's eyes catching on my waist and rebelted myself. Even though the bus crash was caused by an explosion and not an accident, I still couldn't shake the incessant need to wear a harness whenever I was on the PCH. I closed my eyes for a moment when we passed the spot where fifteen of our classmates plunged over the rail into the unforgiving ocean below and spoke to each face emblazoned in my memory. There were many things I've forgotten over the years, but the names of each person who died that day wasn't one of them.

"I still think about DK and how he's doing with his baby."

The almost reverent moment was broken and I turned to him again, glad he'd taken my olive branch. I debated about telling him what I knew and figured he deserved to know since he was as much a part of it as I was. Plus, even though the statues of limitations never ran out on kidnappings, the Feds had long since cleared me of any wrong-doing in the case, though it was still a sore spot between Dad and I for my part in helping Duncan get away.

"I haven't seen him, you see, but every year on my birthday I get a card from Duncan." I restlessly massaged my bulge then decided to go for broke. "I'm pretty sure CW is the one sending them to me because they always have a California postmark and he's the only person Duncan would trust to pass them along to me."

Left unsaid was the deep abiding hatred the elder Kanes held for me, though for very different reasons. I rustled around in my purse and pulled out the one picture I had received in the last dozen years. It was of Duncan, his baby-face more austere and mature, smiling as he held a toddler, her blond hair and blue eyes so heartrendingly reminiscent of _my_ Lilly, though the shape of her face and mouth were definitely shades of Meg. Duncan had named his daughter after his beloved dead sister, but called her Lillian because, as he wrote, there could only be one Lilly Kane.

"Do you ever wish you'd run away with him too? I know he must've asked."

His fingers were dry and rough as they passed the picture back to me, his tone studiously bland as if my answer were of no import. I tucked the keepsake back into my wallet and placed my purse back on the floor as I tried to come up with a diplomatic answer. I couldn't exactly tell him I _had_ thought about it but it was too embarrassing to admit now, all these years later, I said no because my first thought was my dad and the second was of Logan.

"No, I never did. He was my first love and very important to me, but before he left, I had realized we weren't meant to be together. I-we-had changed so much, it wasn't ever going to work."

I was probably as surprised as Logan by the stark honesty of my response. It was the truth, but one I never shared with him. A small portion of our many relationship problems stemmed from his insecurities regarding Duncan. I could appreciate his concerns now because I understood how my inability to tell him I loved him were an open wound, especially since I had no difficulties with Duncan, and Logan had witnessed it more than once, before _and_ after Lilly's death. I wished I could explain to Logan how saying "I love you" to Duncan wasn't a big deal to me then because it was habit and not necessarily a true expression of my feelings, but it was pointless. I had had my chance and blew it.

"So if he suddenly came back and wanted to be with you, you would say no?"

My laughter was genuine and light-hearted for all the darker emotions swirling in my heart. The thought of being with Duncan, much less anyone else for that matter, was ludicrous.

"I'm four months gone with child and you think I'm dangling for a baby daddy? Hell, I _do_ have a baby daddy and I'm not exactly thrilled about it. Trust me, I'm very doubtful there will be any man in my life for the foreseeable future."

His snort was inelegant and annoying.

"That wasn't exactly an answer to my question."

I huffed and crossed my arms, but found the position uncomfortable, so I put them down into my lap.

"No," I responded quietly. "If Duncan were to get off a plane from whatever country he's hiding out in, I wouldn't go back to him. Our love story ended a long time ago and it would be stupid to even try to recapture that spark. The past is done and only the future matters."

I listened to the echo of my words in the bristling silence of the car and wondered if Logan read more into my statement than I had intended. On the other hand, I was stupid and arrogant to assume he was even thinking about us as an _us_ when he was on the verge of engagement to another woman.

"Veronica Mars single? Is that even possible?"

I glared at him, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach as he glossed over my response and spoke to my earlier statement.

"What the hell does that mean?"

He took his eyes off the road, fortunately in a straight pass instead of the dangerous curves, and took a long sweep of me before turning his attention back.

"The longest you've been single was after Lilly died and Duncan broke up with you." He put up a hand to forstall my arguments. "Yes, there were reasons for that, but Junior year you still managed to date Troy, Leo, and me. Then Senior year was Duncan and me again. Then Freshman year of college was me and Piz. Sophomore year was me and Joe, Junior and Senior year was me. And after you completed your training in Virgina and got moved to join the New York office, it was Ted."

I grimaced as he laid out my romantic history but I couldn't refute a single word except Ted and I didn't start dating right away. He romanced me for a year before I even agreed to go out with him, but then our relationship hit fast forward and I moved into his apartment seven months into our relationship.

"Like you can talk. Don't even get me started on all the names on _your_ list."

And just like that, our strained peace was shattered as old demons reared their ugly heads. This was reminiscent of every fight we ever had, which always seemed to revolve around my safety, his sexual conquests, and our inability to keep the blows above the belt. Sure, right now was civil compared to past blowouts, but the ground was shaky beneath our feet and it wouldn't take much to pitch us right back into the morass of unresolved issues.

The fluttering in my belly grew to the point of actual movement, and my skin rippled in a weird way, and I touched the spot with a surprised "Oh!"

Logan snapped his head towards me and panicked when he saw me clutching my waist. With a adroit twist of the wheel, he eased us onto the shoulder, and quickly braked as he anxiously unbelted, and leaned across the console to me. I ignored his mutterings and poked at the spot where the weird sensation had started before placing his hand there as well. He looked at me questioningly until the fluttering happened again beneath his palm.

"The bulge moved for the first time. My OB said it could happen any time."

I felt strange as it suddenly and powerfully impacted me: I was having a baby. This was a living, breathing, organism growing beneath my heart that would soon be completely and utterly dependent on me.

"The Bulge? You're calling your kid "the Bulge?""

The wry humor in his voice and spilling across his face invited a welcoming curve to my lips. I had tossed and turned over my decisions for my new future, whether or not I could include someone else in my planning or if I could give a piece of me away. I had never really thought about being a mother, not since my best friend was brutally and callously ripped from me, and yet it seemed the most natural thing in the world. _Of course _ I could and would be a mom; who's to say the family who chose my kid would be the best suited to raise a Mars? Hadn't I always said it's the hero is the one that stays and the villain is the one that splits?

"I'm having a baby, Logan. I'm really having a baby."

His face was close to me, awe turning his dark eyes almost black, and his soft velvety lips half open. I yearned to close the tiny distance between us and lick at the seam before sliding my tongue into his mouth, but the rational part of my brain screamed "Danger Will Robinson! Danger!" and I gently took his hand off my belly and pushed at his shoulder.

"Don't we need to get going?"

An enigmatic look came over Logan and he shifted backwards, my stomach inexplicably cold where his palm had rested. For a moment it was like the world outside had fallen away and it was just us again, just like it used to be, but I couldn't afford to think like that; too much time had passed between then and now, and I was lying in the bed I made.

"Yes, we do have to be somewhere else, don't we Veronica?"

If I didn't quite understand the bitter undertone, I did realize the truth of his words. We were on different roads and never twain shall meet, or some such rot. Logan was the English major between the two of us and could probably give me the right quote, but instead I stared out the window and geared myself up for my inevitable meeting with my dad, pretending it was tears of joy filling my eyes.


	3. Hope Is A Fragile Thing

**A/N: I never intended this to be a crossover with _How I Met Your Mother_. The character name I stole from that show was unintentional and started from a conversation I had with my best friend; I was saying how a lot of male fictional names are always romance novel type names Lucius, Dirk, or Blade, but never normal sounding names like George, Tom (always Thomas), or Ted. I chose Ted when I wanted V to have another man, but I also didn't want her initials to change if she were to marry him, and Mosby just popped into my head. I waffled over this part of the story the longest, but even though I'm okay with drama and angst on the road to LoVe, I'm also some what of an optimist and so I left what I originally wrote instead of stretching out the pain (I'm in the mood for some loving).**

**Inspiration: "Think Twice" by Eve 6 & "The Way I Loved You" by Taylor Swift**

* * *

><p><em>Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets – Arthur Miller<em>

I mournfully stared at my feet and debated over calling out to my dad to help me tie my shoes, but decided I wasn't five anymore and a fully functioning adult who could do for herself. So it was with red-faced embarrassment when ten minutes later found my dad silently watch me contort into heretofore unimaginable positions as I tried to get around my bulge. Nine months of belly wasn't working with me, so I finally accepted defeat and raised puppy-dog eyes to my laughing parent. I huffed and kicked off the shoes, which honestly I probably couldn't have worn anyway since my feet had swelled so much.

"Sweetheart, you should've just asked for help. Or why not just wear your flip-flops instead?"

I grimaced and waddled, _waddled, _to the door where I slid on the aforementioned flip-flops and finally pronounced myself as ready. Dad came over and hugged me, kissing my head as he had for a long as I could remember, and grabbed his keys from the hook by the back door. I huffed my way to the car and sat down in the passenger seat, waiting for him to lock the house up. It was strange to live in a house with Dad instead of the apartment as we had until I graduated from college, but life does move on no matter how much one wishes otherwise. I was just glad Harmony didn't live with us yet, though I think he was waiting until after the baby was born before telling me about their engagement; I may be down, but I ain't out for the count and I had accidentally found the ring he'd hidden in his dresser drawer when I was putting away his clothes. I had offered to find my own place, but he wouldn't hear of it, just glad I was back in California even if he didn't exactly agree with my situation or my handling of it.

"Mac gonna meet you at the office?"

My thoughts scattered with Dad's question and I pulled my attention back to the present. I'd spoke to Mac last night and she wouldn't be able to make it to this last OB appointment because she had a meeting at work today. It still struck me as ironic that Jake Kane had offered her a position as his computer security chief, comparable to Clarence Weidman's job, as soon as she graduated. While he wanted to nail me to the wall for cracking Castle's secrets, he was impressed by her hacking skills. Mac told me she'd struggled with the decision long and hard, especially since she'd always dreamed of leaving Neptune, but eventually had to take it because the money was so good and it gave her an opportunity to spend more time with her birth family. It turned out she loved what she did, had a great rapport with her staff, and met the man she eventually married, so everything worked out for her.

"No, but she said this should be the last day of work and then she's off until I give birth."

When I broke the news to everyone (though it wasn't really a secret at that point given how I looked) at Thanksgiving dinner, she immediately offered to be my birthing coach as she intimately knew the rigors of childbirth having twins of her own. I'd teared up because it was the last thing I expected; we were still close, but I figured this was above and beyond the calls of friendship. We spoke privately and I told her my concerns about being a mother, my decision to move back home, and how I planned on being a single parent. The talk stuck with me because her knowledge of my past and how it shaped me informed her sound advice and actually relieved a lot of my concerns.

"Good sweetie," Dad murmured distractedly, patting my hand, his eyes on the rear-view mirror. "Ease up, asshole."

The expletive was shocking in a man who rarely swore, and never in front of women. He was a throwback to a more chivalrous era, or at least the one he liked in those old black and white movies he made me watch growing up, and refused to be less than a gentleman. I slightly turned around and saw an old nondescript car edging up close to our bumper, the driver indistinct through the cloudy glass. A clutch of old fear crept through me as I remembered a rainy day with a looming car and the death that followed. Just when I was starting to hyperventilate, the driver finally swerved around us, honking and beeping at us while throwing the middle finger before getting into our lane and gunning the engine. I watched my dad's hands tighten on the steering wheel for a moment before he relaxed, though I noticed him taking a mental picture of the guy's license plate.

"You okay?"

I nodded frantically, clutching my belly as my bulge reacted to my emotions and started kicking and punching at me. It wasn't good for either of us for my blood pressure to shoot up, as it had a tendency to do at the slightest provocation, so I immediately switched to the breathing techniques I was taught until my heart beat subsided to normal and the baby settled down, which was unfortunately right on my bladder, and I winced as Dad drove over a slight speed bump.

"Veronica, Veronica..."

I finally realized he was trying to get my attention and I turned to him with a fake smile.

"It's okay, Dad. I was just...remembering the accident...the guy just kinda freaked me out."

The look on Dad's face, a combination of anger and guilt, unsettled me again and I regretted bringing it up. Over the years, I had tried to talk it over with Logan, but like Dad, he carried scars from that day and refused to open up to me about it. I tried not to resent being shut out, but it was hard. This was one of the many issues still undecided between us and it irked me he wasn't willing to let things lie. I had changed a lot from the self-righteous girl I'd been back then, but the drive to uncover secrets was a strong part of my personality and not something I could exactly switch off.

There was nothing left to say, so we rode the rest of the way in silence and he dropped me off in the front of the medical building with a promise to pick me up in an hour. I knew he was probably going back to his office to look up the speedy driver or something, so I just nodded and went inside. The appointment went exactly as it did last week, the usual wait and see though the doctor did say she was going to induce me if I went one more week, and I was done in forty minutes. I texted Dad telling him I was heading to Amy's right around the corner for a little ice cream. He responded with a quip about not eating my weight, which wasn't exactly funny given how much the scales dipped today, but approved and would be a little longer than expected.

Well, he might've expected not be gone long, but he is a good Sheriff and loved his job so I figured he'd be awhile. I was settling into a chair outside with my cup of creamy goodness and a book I'd brought along just in case, when a shadow fell across my page. For some reason when I looked up, I expected Logan, not Samantha, her brown eyes snapping with malice and dislike. I struggled to sit up, feeling frumpy in my maternity jeans and tunic compared to her gorgeous designer dress, the cherry red a good contrast against her tanned skin. Her black hair was caught up in a sleek chignon and makeup impeccable, while I frantically thought back to whether or not I had brushed my hair before throwing it up in a sloppy bun.

"Veronica."

I arched a brow, falling on my usual acting skills to hide how uncomfortable she made me.

"Samantha." I looked around and saw she was alone. "Fancy running into you here."

Logan had finally introduced us when I finished moving home after Christmas. The moment we laid eyes on one another, I knew we'd never be friends, no matter how much he wished it. There was too much history between him and I for her to ever be comfortable with me, and I couldn't blame her. I understood the visceral need to claw your adversary's eyes out because I felt it surging through me every time I saw her and knew she felt the same way. If it weren't for her, he'd be mine again because I'd make it my mission to convince him to forgive me.

"I want you to leave Logan alone."

My expression of confusion seemed to irritate her further because she huffed at me before grabbing the other chair and sitting down in it a bit less gracefully then I expected. It was this slight hint of her less than 09er background that grounded me and lessened my envy at her appearance; of course I ran a thorough background check on her using my network of friends, and her past, while not a secret, did reveal the mask of perfection she wore was to hide the trailer park world she grew up in and escaped. I could applaud her for reinventing herself even as I wished her to the devil for doing so with the man I loved.

"Exactly what are you accusing me of?"

Samantha swept a disgusted look over my bloated body and threw a tabloid down on the table between us. I did a quick scan of the cover and had to shake my head at the picture of Logan and I coming out of a restaurant, his face puckered in a scowl even as he tried to shield me from the cameras, my obviously pregnant belly prominent in the shot with the banner "Will Logan Echolls' Secret Love Child Break Up His Engagement?" in block letters above our heads. I didn't have to read the story to know the reporter probably dug up old scandals and our long history together and mixed it with quotes from "reputable sources" to make a case for him being the father.

"Do you know how damaging this looks? He's finally overcome his past and now _you_ move here and suddenly it's all anyone can talk about! This has gone on long enough and I'm here to stop it before he loses his job over it."

I sighed a little and pushed the magazine back towards her. I knew the real reason behind her tantrum wasn't so much him being pegged as my baby-daddy or the potential lost job (which, c'mon this was Hollywood and there was no such thing as bad publicity if it got your name and project in the news), but the fact there _wasn't_ an engagement to break up. For whatever reason, Logan still hadn't proposed even though he already had the ring picked out. I had no desire to open that can of worms, or feed my burgeoning hope he still felt the same way about me, so I refused to talk to him about it. Their problems were theirs and none of mine.

"Samantha, we met up in LA when I'd gone there to shop for a few things I couldn't find in Neptune for the baby's room. He offered to take me to lunch and it was just a casual meal between two old friends. _That's it_."

I couldn't stress it enough how less than romantic it was. The odd tension between us precluded me from being too comfortable with him, and the larger my belly got, the less he wanted to speak with me, which is why I was surprised by the luncheon. I was used to reading him like a book, so it was more than disconcerting he suddenly became a mystery to me.

"He's changed since you've come to Neptune. He's so different from the man I know and fell in love with; he used to be so outgoing and fun, but now he's all broody and snappish. I'm afraid he's started drinking again, or at least thinking about it." The pitch of her voice lowered and I unintentionally leaned in. "We haven't had sex in weeks."

The ice cream I consumed threatened to come back up at her confession; I had absolutely no desire to ever know about Logan's bedroom escapades with any woman. Ever. I already had too many sour memories to combat, though I can admit catty satisfaction at her admission. Then a mental alert sounded through my brain as I remembered the date. There were only a few anniversaries bad enough to drive Logan to drink, especially after all this time and few stints in rehab. I wanted to curse myself for not remembering sooner, especially given my brush with ghosts earlier today.

"Where is he?" My voice was fierce and her eyes widened. "My dad drove me so you'll have to be my ride. Take me to him now."

A moment ago I would've been delighted by her fear of me because it meant I still had it, despite the Bulge, but now all I could think of was Logan alone in a dark house with all of his demons playing havoc with him. It wouldn't matter how far he'd come in the past few years, the strides he'd made in his personal and professional life because beneath it all he was still the broken boy from Neptune. We didn't speak as she drove me out of the town limits and towards his place in Huntington Beach where he stayed when there was a break in filming. Fortunately it was only mid-afternoon so we didn't have to battle traffic and got to his place in relatively good time. I had sent a text to Dad telling him I was hanging out with friends and would be home later. His response made me smile as he reminded me I had a curfew and I wasn't so old I couldn't still be grounded. I knew it was his way of telling me to be safe and check in, so I sent back a smiley face and a "love you."

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

Samantha's expression was eerily familiar and for a moment I couldn't place it until sudden comprehension flowed through me; she reminded me of Hannah, Logan's underage girlfriend who once tracked me down to explain how to handle her incomprehensible boyfriend. If I could've slammed my head against the door, I would have, but instead opted to knock. I was shocked Samantha didn't have a key as Logan had always given me one to wherever he stayed (probably knowing I'd get it somehow anyway), but refrained from commenting. I know, very adult of me.

"Veronica Mars."

I winced at Logan's bloodshot eyes and cringed from the drawn out syllables of my name. He said it like he used to in high school before he slammed the verbal dagger of betrayal into my guts and twisted it for effect; the way he said it the night he egged on a circle of his friends to use my unconscious body as a salt lick; the way he always did when he wanted to push me into fighting him because no one else could keep up with him except me. I shoved past him and spun around, a little ungainly since my center of gravity had shifted, then pointed at his cowering girlfriend.

"You're to blame for this, you know. She's worried about you and once again I'm forced to explain how to handle the raging bull that is Logan Echolls."

His expressive face dropped in mock disappointment, his gaze flicking over me and completely ignoring Samantha behind him. I knew the uncompromising line of his lips, the sardonic light in his eyes, and braced myself.

"Really? Are you sure it isn't because you need sex? I read pregnant ladies get really horny. I'm willing to give you a bareback ride for old time's sake. Not like I can knock you up twice."

He made an obscene gesture at me, showing off the front of his body, and I realized for the first time he was practically nude, clad only in boxer briefs. How I had missed the spectacular sight of long lithe muscles encased in snug cotton which didn't really leave anything to my imagination was a sign of my worry. The small feminine gasp broke me from my somewhat dazed perusal (he looked even better then he did when we were together) and I edged around him to look at Samantha.

"I've got it from here. He's just drunk and needs to sleep it off."

She stomped in, her shock wearing off as anger set in. I knew she'd taken his comment seriously instead of as a boorish attempt at intimidation, but then she'd probably never been subjected to the harsh side of his tongue; no, the honor was all mine.

"I should've never come to you! I can't believe you'd try to seduce him _in front of me_ . You're even more conniving and sneakier than I'd been told. You slutty bitch!"

I rolled my eyes at her words and watched as Logan finally realized her presence through the alcoholic haze he was in. The slap was unexpected because I didn't think the girl had it in her, but the stinging on my cheek told me it was real. I saw Logan swell with rage and tried to get around Samantha to head him off, but she was taller and pissed off, so she blocked me, her mouth open to unleash a torrent, but he got there first and pulled her away.

"Sammi-Jo, your trailer park is showing." His smile was all teeth and I looked away from the gore. "Maybe you should go into the bedroom and clean out your stuff. I think I left a few dollars on the bedside so it should take care of any bills you might have."

Her face leached of color and I swatted Logan's arm at his unkind remark, especially since her birth mother had been arrested for prostitution on and off throughout her childhood. The last time had resulted in the state finally taking her away and putting her into foster care. Samantha was one of the lucky kids for whom the system worked, the one who found a loving family who adopted her and raised her into the accomplished woman she was today. Her only fault was falling in love with a psychotic jackass who had a mile wide mean streak and a penchant for knowing where to press on people's tender spots. It was the closest he came to emulating his father, using words instead of fists to hurt, but it was one comparison I would go to my grave without ever telling him.

"Ignore him, he's always vicious when he's drunk. He doesn't mean it and when he sleeps it off, he'll apologize."

I turned my hottest glare upon Logan, aware of the irony of me comforting my nemesis. Samantha wiped the lone tear that trailed down her face then stepped away from us both.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper and slapping you. It wasn't right." She straightened and turned to Logan with a haughty look. "I have no desire to stay and be subjected to this madness. My Daddy always said I was a treasure and shouldn't be wasted on assholes." She flicked me a pitying look. "You're more than welcome to him since it's you he's always wanted anyway. I'm tired of trying to compete."

I admired her exit even as I cursed her leaving since it stranded me here with Logan. I could probably take his car home, but then the logistics of trying to return it made my head hurt, so I called Dad letting him know where I was staying and knew he understood why because he only said he'd see me in the morning.

"Well, I thought she'd never leave," Logan drawled after I got off the phone, his fingers tender on my throbbing cheek. "You okay, Champ?"

I stepped away out of self-preservation because even drunk he was potent in small quarters and walked to the kitchen where he probably secreted the Jack Daniels. I stopped in surprise when I saw the unopened bottle sitting on the stainless steel counter, whirling around to face Logan at my back. He chuckled at my expression, though the sound was anything but merry.

"I haven't taken a sip, Ronnie. I've been sober for ten months and counting."

My mouth gaped open as I reconstructed the previous scene and realized he didn't smell like alcohol. I tried to understand how I had missed it earlier, but then I also hadn't noticed he was half-naked either, so I frowned at my bulge knowing who was to blame for my less than stellar detective skills right now.

"Why did act like you were drunk? Was it to break up with her? There are better and kinder ways to do it."

He just stood there in his bronzed glory while I tried to act nonchalant about it, though I wasn't sure if I succeeded since I saw a smirk lifting one side of his mouth when I managed to drag my eyes from his impressively lean physique. Had his muscles always rippled like that when he moved?

"I've known for a while it wasn't working out with us, but every time I tried to talk to her about it, she'd just shut me down or ignore me or tell me I should talk to my sponsor. I started feeling trapped and claustrophobic, so when you came here tonight, I took my chance."

I pushed past him and made myself comfortable on his couch, tucking a few pillows around my back and under my legs so I could ease the nagging back ache I'd developed in the past half hour.

"You used me to breakup with your girlfriend who you told me a few months ago you were thinking of marrying."

Logan idly scratched at the back of his neck and ducked his head, a tell-tale sign of guilt. He peeked up at me beneath a fan of lashes and I had to hold back a sigh at the sight; it was completely unfair I wasn't my usual ball-busting, ass-kicking self because _that_ girl wouldn't be all melty over his little boy act.

"Well, uh, I didn't exactly tell you the truth.

I could feel my facial muscles folding into a "duh!" expression, but he seemed more relieved I wasn't madder. Of course, right now I was a little more attuned to being uncomfortable in my skin than him; I could always blow up at him later, once I found the right position.

"I really did think about marrying her; she's everything I thought I wanted in a woman." He breathed deeply then started pacing. "But every time I thought about actually _asking_ her, I could hear Dick's voice asking me why the hell I wanted to marry her instead of being a ladies man."

We shared a sad glance as his dead best friend's ghost floated between us. It was one hundred and twenty-five on the inexhaustible list of reasons why Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls shouldn't be together: it was my fault Dick was dead. Today marked the ten-year anniversary of his death at the hands of Gory Sorokin. Logan, as usual, came to my rescue when things got too hot for me to handle; except, it was Dick who ended up in the crossfire and took the bullet meant for me. Death by gunshot isn't like they show in the movies: he never had enough time to say anything because he bled out too fast from a wound to his femoral artery. I'd like to think he deliberately stepped in front of the bullet in some sort of atonement for what his brother did to me, to so many others, but more than likely it was just pure dumb Casablancas luck.

"What about the ring? Will you be able to return it?"

I had thought it tacky he originally thought to give her his mother's ring. There were too many bad memories associated with that marriage, and I felt it was symbolized in the huge gaudy ring Aaron had given Lynn on their wedding day. He'd begged me to help him pick the perfect one out and I'd perused a bunch of websites before I came across a few that would suit Samantha. Mac expressed wonder at my seemingly adjusted reception to Logan marrying someone else, but I never told her about the sobbing sessions each time I looked at rings.

"I picked out the one I thought best-suited my bride...but...it wasn't her I had in mind."

His voice was warm and whiskey-rough with an emotion I hadn't heard in a very long while, which had my eyes jerking to his face. The vulnerable curve of his unsmiling mouth and the bleak look in his caramel eyes smote my heart as I realized what he couldn't say aloud – in all our time together, he'd always been brave enough to lay it on the line, and I'd taken it for granted like so much else about him. Apparently he'd wised up, or I'd kicked him in the heart too many times for him to take that last step now. Yet, even seeing his true feelings shining back at me, I was frozen by fear because it seemed too fast, too much, after the roller coaster of the last few months. Hell, the last few years.

"This isn't your baby."

Emotions crossed his face too fast for me to understand them all, but I did recognize the befuddlement and disappointment he now wore. He thought I was ignoring his confession.

"Trust me, Ronnie, I'm fully aware of that." Bitterness coated each word. "I never thought you'd want to be a mom."

My mouth dropped open with shock.

"You think I _planned_ this baby? Sure, I turned down a marriage proposal, but decided to accept his seed in exchange? Jesus Christ, Logan. It was an accident through medications screwing with my birth control and tequila making the rhythm method sound like a good idea when we ran out of condoms."

I probably should've kept the last part to myself, given the jealousy tightening his fists, but a small part of me was thrilled by his possessiveness, especially after being tortured with the idea of him belonging to someone else permanently.

"Why did you come back to Neptune? To fuck with me? To mock me with what I could never have?"

I looked down at my belly and drew in a deep breath, trying to reassure myself I would be the brave one today. My afternoon plans had done a complete three-sixty and I had never imagined baring my soul to Logan ever, but somehow against all Neptunian logic I'd been given another chance. I couldn't waste this opportunity.

"This isn't your baby and I can't tell you how much I regret that. I never thought of having a kid, but I guess I always assumed if I did, you'd be the dad." I shrugged, pleating my shirt with nervous fingers. "I've missed you every second since the day I flew to Virginia and left you behind. Ted was a mistake because I was trying to capture the feeling I've only ever experienced with you, but I convinced myself was easily duplicated."

I peeked up at him and was disconcerted by the blank look on his face. Maybe I'd completely misread his intentions? Projected my own feelings onto him and convinced myself he reciprocated? Mortified by my mistake, I struggled to get up, but stopped when Logan got to his knees before me and buried his face in my lap (or what little there was). I hesitantly touched his shoulder with a gentle hand and was startled when he nuzzled a tear-wet cheek into it.

"I sat on Coronado Bridge with a bottle of Jack in hand when I heard Ted proposed to you. It took everything in me not to take that first drink; pretty much the only thing stopping me was fear of history repeating itself." He kissed my fingers. "I knew then I wasn't over you and was fooling myself by thinking I was; even though you said "no" to him, I figured it was only a matter of time until you found someone who _would_ convince you to say "yes." You're not a woman who stays alone long."

I squeaked when he quickly shot up and lifted me so he could cuddle me in his lap on the couch. My back ache had increased in intensity but I was so entranced by his confession, I ignored the pain.

"I told you I was gonna propose to Samantha because I couldn't think of anything else to say. I tested you to see if you would have any negative reactions. I always did think you were cute when you were jealous." He rubbed his chin against my forehead. "I didn't expect you to be pregnant though."

This whole thing was a set up? The anguish I suffered silently was for naught?

"You lying sonofabitch! Then have you pretty much ignored me since I got back? I thought you hated me."

His whole body seemed to tighten as if he was bracing for a blow.

"I've been house-hunting because I figure you'll eventually want to move out of your dad's place, especially when he pops the question to Harmony, and this apartment is fine for a bachelor but no place to raise a kid. I found this great little five bedroom three bathroom place near the beach for a decent price."

My head spun as I tried to comprehend the complete reversal of all my previously held beliefs.

"But...but..."

His finger was soft against my lips as he shushed me.

"No pressure, Ronnie. We're stupid and useless without each other. When you move in, there are no strings attached – you can be my friend, my roommate, or my lover. I will wait for you as long as you need; I don't care as long as you're near me." He looked at my white face with something approaching resignation. "What do you say?"

My smile felt weirdly stretched, as if I'd lost control of my facial muscles and Logan must've taken it for rejection because he started to withdraw physically when we both froze.

"My water just broke."


	4. The Pendulum Swings

**A/N: This is almost the end of the road for these two and I hope you've enjoyed their journey. I'm horrible with naming, so I stole the baby's name from my friend's kid with her permission (or more, I told her I wrote a story and used her daughter's name – she just laughed). The name isn't mine, but the reasons behind it are all me and pure fiction. Sorry it took me so long to update, but I got caught up in the fictional world of Skyrim and couldn't seem to drag myself away long enough to edit.**

**Inspiration: "Shameless" by Garth Brooks, "Anymore" by Travis Tritt, & "Hell on the Heart" by Eric Church**

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><p><em>Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage – Lao Tzu<em>

"When are you going to put Logan out of his misery?"

I bit into my lasagna with relish because I was hungry, but also because it gave me a few extra seconds before I was forced to answer. I drew out my chewing and swallowing as long as possible.

"What do you mean?"

You know you've been friends with someone too long when the wide-eyes and head tilt doesn't even make him blink. Wallace merely chuckled at my innocent act and took a sip of his beer, but I wasn't foolish enough to think the subject was dropped. It was something Dad brought up on a regular basis, and with Lauren's first birthday party winding down, it left the adults with nothing to focus on except each other. Or in this case, Logan and I.

"Girl, don't play like that. He watches you like he did in high school, as if you were the only glass of water in a hundred miles of desert."

I looked over to the man in question, and found him cradling our daughter against his chest as he softly sang to her. She was fussy earlier and only wanted "Gan" to hold her, which wasn't uncommon, and a relief for me. I loved my child, but I was also worn down from running around getting the house ready for guests and hungry beyond belief since I hadn't had anything to eat all day.

"You're probably mistaking that for indigestion. He ate something with tomatoes and you know how it unsettles his stomach."

Wallace tipped my chin upward with a finger and made me meet his eyes. Mac was my closest female friend, but he was my best friend, probably the best one I had since Lilly's death (sometimes I even had the traitorous thought he was better than her because he never caused me the same heartache). I couldn't resist the gentle look on his face and sighed.

"We're taking it slow. I don't want to make the same mistakes we made when we were younger especially since it's not just us anymore." I bit my lip and stared at my twisting hands. "I'm afraid of how well things are going."

I expected many reactions, but rolling laughter definitely didn't even make the list. My head snapped up and I glared at him, which only increased his mirth. When he nearly fell out of his chair, I huffed and stomped across the yard to the buffet table to get more food. Logan met me there with a sleepy bundle of long blonde hair and legs.

"I'm going to put Lauren to bed. Christy is here to keep an eye on her while we're with the guests." He pointed out our nanny standing on the patio with a flick of his chin. "I'll be right back."

I nodded guiltily, because not every mom was fortunate enough to employ a part-time nanny, and it made me feel distinctly 09er, but she was a godsend I'd quickly found myself unable to do without. The first few months after Lauren's birth were rough as I experienced postpartum depression and refused to leave my dad's house, positive the negative influences in Neptune would somehow reach out to ruin my baby. I hadn't wanted Lauren in the first place, but once she was here, I couldn't be parted from her without having a panic attack. No one was able to get through to me until Logan showed up one day and simply took Lauren from the crib while she was crying, probably induced by my own spate of exhausted tears, and wouldn't give her back until I showered and ate something. He told me flat out he was moving the two of us into his house in Huntington Beach and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Since my dad was on board, something that still shocks me, and essentially kicked me out, I had no recourse but to move in.

"Are you finally going to give a dog a bone when we leave?"

I quickly turned my head away from Logan's retreating back and looked at the speaker.

"Et tu, Mac?"

She smiled even as she ate the remaining cake on her plate, probably left over from whatever her sons Oscar and Henry hadn't managed to mash in their hair.

"You've lived together nearly a year and neither of you are dating or sleeping with anyone else. Are you going to make him remain celibate until the Bulge goes to college?"

I could feel a flush staining my cheeks and working down my chest. I hadn't felt like a sexual being for a long time and it was only the last few weeks I started to regain any sense of femininity. Yesterday morning I had come downstairs in my bra and panties because all of my clean clothes were in the laundry room and had run into Logan coming in from the side door which lead to the beach. He'd been surfing, a hobby he didn't get a lot of chance to indulge in with his work schedule. The long sweep of desire-filled eyes had heated my flesh and made me crave close contact, our bodies almost but not quite touching. I'd quivered and waited for him to kiss me, but he'd gallantly stepped back and immediately went to his private bathroom for a shower. A very cold one, if the lump in his wetsuit was any indication.

"Honey, you know I love you, and I wasn't always a fan of Logan, but you two are miles past all the bad road. You have a child together - " she held up her hand, "- Yes, Lauren isn't his biological kid, but you see how he treats her, she might as well be. When are you going to admit he's changed? _You've_ changed?"

I nodded even as tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. It was true. When we dated in our early twenties, I'd complained because he didn't have a set plan for when we graduated and always ignored his counter argument that _no one_ had a blueprint for life. I needed to know what and where I was going so I could exert control over every aspect of my existence. His cavalier attitude towards life had spooked me so much, I neglected to think that perhaps he was right and it was _normal _to figure it out as you went along. Now, even I couldn't argue Logan wasn't a responsible, tax-paying, fully functioning adult who no longer drank or partied, but commuted between his work place and home because he wanted to be with his family. And there was no doubt in my mind he considered Lauren and me family.

"I love him, Mac. I really do."

My admission was quiet and heart-felt, as I could finally admit to her what everyone else had always known: Logan Echolls was my true love. In all of our years together, through thick and thin, those three little words were the only ones I never said straight to his face. He'd always asked and I would answer affirmatively, but I didn't offer them of my own volition nor did I even think to. Logan was a genius at figuring out how my mind worked, so I assumed him _knowing_ I loved him was as good as _hearing_ it.

"Bond, you two been through more in your teens than most people go through in their entire lives. It's cliche-sounding, but it doesn't make it any less true. I never told you this because I was afraid you'd get mad -" her deep breath puzzled me. Was I really that scary to my _friends_? "- I think you breaking up with him when you went to Virginia and then dating Ted, no matter how it ended, was the best thing for you two. You needed to learn how to be apart and be normal. Epic is tough to sustain."

I tilted my head as I studied her. The high-powered corporate sellout wasn't reflected in the jeans-wearing, t-shirt stained, flip-flopped mom standing here, but to me she would always be my streaky-haired Q who always had my back even when I asked her to do slightly (sometimes more than slightly) illegal things. Maybe that was the point – I tended to hold onto the past and looked at the people in my life through that lens, instead of who they presently were. Having Lauren forced me to see Logan in a whole new light: before her, he was still the sixteen year old who hurt me so badly after I'd already suffered through the abrupt ending of my first relationship, the murder of my dearest friend, my mother's desertion, and waking up with no memory of why my panties were on the floor. His own demons spurred his attitude, which I knew logically, but my heart still carried a grudge and I'd continued to take it out on him long past the point of just desserts into pointless vengeance.

"I just am so afraid with everything going so well..."

I cut off abruptly when she started giggling, her hands shaking so much she had to put the plate down on the table next to her. I put my hands on my hips and scowled at her.

"What the hell is so amusing about my fear?"

I waited a minute or more as she finally got a hold of herself and straightened up enough to put on a more serious face.

"Only Veronica Mars would be worried when things are going _well_." She shook her head, a large smile wobbling her lips. "I know you two seem better when operating under duress, but you can't do that forever and definitely not with a kid. It's not healthy."

My mouth curled into a pout as I crossed my arms across my chest. When Logan and I were teens, summertime was the easiest season for us because we didn't have the pressure of _real life_; this carried over into our adult relationship as well. Now, however, I didn't have the same guide because we'd been apart for so long and it was trickier because of different expectations. We had a child to rear, though we hadn't ever really talked about it. Logan moved us in and that was that, no real discussion about our future other than the little speech he'd given me before my water broke. I didn't doubt he still felt the same, but it seemed easier to just pretend the conversation about marriage hadn't happened; Logan was following my lead as usual and probably didn't want to rock the boat. We were together, but _not_.

"You don't get it. We talk all the time; about the house, Lauren, his job, my business. But we don't talk about marriage or sex or...or...anything important." _Like our future or our past._

Mac took my hands in hers to stop the wringing motion and I stared at her pretty face, realizing for the first time she had the faint beginnings of laugh lines fanning from her eyes and around her mouth. It was disconcerting because we were all ageless and seventeen in my mind.

"He loves you, you love him. It's simple. Stop being a girl and go be Veronica Mars."

I grinned at the last, amused to see she equated guts and glory with my name. I dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and flicked a quick glance over her shoulder, seeing nearly everyone had drifted away except for Dad, Harmony, Wallace, and Mac's husband Felix. Weevil hadn't made it, nor did I really expect him since he was following up a lead for a case in Utah.

"I have guests left and it would be rude to leave them."

Mac rolled her eyes as she pulled away from me.

"Please, the only ones left are family and we're all tired of waiting for the Love Train to pull out of the station."

I stuck out my tongue at her reference to the juvenile name she and Wallace came up with for Logan and I when we dated the first time. She laughed, the sullen outcast girl I befriended in high school changed by the power of contentment. I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere, but I was too keyed up about Logan to think about it much. Her hands were firm when she turned me around and pushed me towards the house.

"Go get your man."

I threw up my middle finger, comforted by her giggle, and kept on walking in the direction she'd pointed me. It was past time we had a frank and honest discussion, two words rarely used in the same sentence as my name, and I had to start it. Logan would hold off indefinitely because he was very determined to keep to his promise of waiting for me. If a year of celibacy and not even a _hint_ of another woman (I would like to say I know that for sure because I trusted him and not because I tagged his car, but then I would be lying), couldn't convince me of his sincerity then nothing would.

"You look like you're about to step in front of a firing squad."

I stumbled backward as my internal musings had so drowned out my external surroundings, I hadn't even realized he was standing in front of me when I reached the mid point landing on the stairs.

"I, uh, was, um," _c'mon Veronica, you can do better than this_, "coming to check on the Bulge." Ok, baby steps. No pun intended.

Logan eyed me strangely, probably at my uncharacteristic stuttering, and crossed his arms.

"Don't think I could sing _Wheels on the Bus_ right?"

For whatever reason, Lauren absolutely loved that song. That song and her threadbare bunny were absolutely necessary for a good night's sleep. On more than one occasion she'd woken up from a complete dead sleep when we laid her down in her bed, eyes rounded with tears over her bedtime staples.

"Of course not. Lately it seems only you can do it right. She actually put her fingers over my lips when I tried to sing it to her the other night and cried for you."

I tried not to be disgruntled by my child's decided preference for Logan at bedtime, but it was hard sometimes. It seemed like she loved him more than me, which was absurd to think of a toddler, but it touched on my biggest fear: I was such a horrible mother even my kid knew it.

The wretch chuckled and dragged me into his arms. "Lauren tried to get me to sing it to her more than once. She's only one and she already has the tilt going on. I fear for the boys of her generation." He released me to mime loading a shot gun. "Good thing I'll be prepared when they come knocking."

I shook my head at him even as I secretly thrilled to his words. It was one more indication he saw himself with us for the long haul and really did think of Lauren as his kid; even Dad commented on Logan's parenting skills, saying he was a natural. It warmed my heart that my men were now friends because it would've been difficult choosing between them. Looking back, I know some part of my reticence with Logan was because Dad didn't approve of him and it underscored my own private fears for our relationship.

"I bugged your car to make sure you weren't meeting with another girl."

Whoa, that's not quite how I expected to say it, but he was staring at me with those deep chocolate eyes, loving smile meant for a child not of his blood, and I panicked.

"You...bugged...my...car?"

I closed my eyes and leaned against his shoulder, glad he hadn't pulled away from me yet, though his body was stiff. And not in a fun way.

"It was when I first moved in. You kept saying all the right things and you weren't pressuring me for anything and you were so good with me and Lauren and I couldn't stand this being a dream so I figured you were getting some on the side since we weren't really in a relationship and I felt sick but not sick sick just sick over you going to someone else."

I took a huge gulp of air after my hyper sentence and peeked up at his face. In the intervening years away from me, Logan had learned to shield his emotions behind an even more impenetrable mask, one even I had trouble reading sometimes. He looked carved from marble.

"I think this discussion is better had in my bedroom and not in the middle of the stairs where anyone can come across us."

Gods, even his voice was cool, lacking all warmth of his earlier comments. I wanted nothing more than to use our guests as an excuse to escape, but I couldn't. I was tired of sleeping alone and I _missed_ him in ways not assuaged by our living arrangements. If we were going to make a move forward into a better future, it was past time for me to lay my cards on the table. I was coward; it's not like I really feared his reaction as he'd probably forgive me anything short of cheating on him. Logan was definitely better than me in this: he was inherently unselfish and giving of himself to those who he loved, regardless if they reciprocated. I'd seen it, but hadn't understood, when he dated Lilly, then again with his mother, and even with Aaron. Him stealing the Lilly tapes were partially because he didn't want the images on the Internet, but also deep down, the little boy who tried so hard to be perfect for an exacting father couldn't betray him like that.

"So, what's this about tracking me? Do you really think I'm so inconstant that I can't go without sex?"

Now I could definitely read the pain and offended pride on his face. I couldn't look him in the eyes and so I gazed around at his room, which shared the same wall as mine. Sometimes at night I couldn't sleep until I heard the comforting sounds of him preparing for bed; other times, I would fight with myself about going to him and lying skin to skin with him. The only thing keeping me from going to his bed was I knew he'd expect a declaration of intent from me and I wasn't quite ready. I loved him, I wanted to be with him, but...there was always a "but" in my head, one I couldn't explain or talk around. It even extended to making public appearances with him - nowadays the buzz around him was for acting, not his personal life, and we wanted to keep it that way. Or, more specifically, I did. I knew the minute we made a public announcement, like oh appearing on the red carpet as his date, our past would come back up like it did when I was pregnant. Still it was hard reading about a "single" Logan and seeing all the women vying for his attention.

"I did it because I hate you." I ignored his gasp, knowing I had to get it out or I'd never find the courage to say it again. "I hate how important you are to me. I hate how I can't sleep until I know you're home safe. I hate how insanely jealous and possessive you make me when you say you're single in interviews. I hate how Lauren said "Da, Da" first because it crushes me a little every time you didn't father her. I hate..."

My voice failed me as the tears I couldn't cry balled in my throat. It was always like this – when it truly, utterly counted, I couldn't reveal my innermost self and I loathed crying in front of others, but especially Logan. I knew it stemmed from the year he made it his mission to get me to cry in public after Lilly's death, but all the understanding of my psychosis didn't change my inability to truly let go.

"We'll never change fundamentally, Logan. I'm still the girl who got raped at a party and you're still the boy who was beaten by his father and ignored by his mother. We can't change the past, but I want to change our present, so we can have a future."

I didn't dare raise my eyes to look at him and listened to the roaring silence instead. I felt stupid and clumsy and inarticulate because truthfully, I'd never confessed my love for anyone before. Every time I was in a serious relationship, it was always the guy who made the first move or said the right words and I simply reciprocated because I felt like I was supposed to. Logan was different, even going back to our first kiss at Camelot. Sure, he laid one hell of a wowser on me, but I initiated it with my peck to the cheek. I'd been thinking about him for weeks prior, wondering when our battle of wits had become foreplay, and the touch of his skin against my lips had rocketed my heartbeat until I couldn't hear anything but its thumping. His grasp of my hand as he swung me into his arms felt natural and joyful, as if my body was saying "oh there you are." The first time he said those three important words, I'd felt light-hearted and joyous, my "ditto" an inside reference to his secret favorite movie _Ghost._

"I do try to understand you, and I think of anyone I'm the closest, but you can't even say "love" so you substitute "hate?" Really? You think that's enough? I've put up with a lot from you, Veronica, but you have to give just a little."

The acidic edge to the words seared me as I looked up into his dark scowling face. His eyes had never looked so fierce, nor his lips so stern. Words were weapons between us, so I'd learned to judge his mood from his body language, and it was shouting loud and clear he really was hurt and upset. I reviewed my words and couldn't understand why – I basically said I loved him and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. What was his problem?

"What's your problem? I say I love you, want to spend my life with you, and even name you my kid's father. When we get married, I'm not taking your name. Sorry, buddy, but I've been Veronica Mars for far too long to change it."

Logan blinked.

"I'm...uh...we're...who...huh?"

I drew in a deep breath and let it out in a controlled pattern. Maybe I hadn't approached this the best way, but for me it's always better to go balls to the wall or I chicken out.

"I'll be right back."

I rushed into my room and grabbed the folded paper I'd tucked into my jewelry box. I'd received it the other day and had planned on a more romantic way of showing Logan, but I guess this was more our style: loud, messy, and belligerent. He hadn't moved an inch, so I handed him the letter and then sat on the bed to see his reaction. He unfolded it and read it slowly as if not understanding what he read.

"Ok, I'm not getting it here, Ronnie. It's Lauren's birth cert. What 'bout it?"

I sighed even as I pushed both hands through my hair. Mac always liked to poke fun at me for picking up Logan's habit, but it was really comforting and felt good for some strange reason when frustrated or thoughtful or just plain fed up.

"I only filled out the basic info when we were in the hospital, but a few months ago, I applied to get it changed to add more."

He nodded, but still looked confused.

"You were right, Logan. Just because I don't have one doesn't mean she shouldn't so, I gave Lauren a middle name."

Logan was the one who got me to the hospital when I went into labor at his old apartment, cut the cord, hell, even named Lauren, as I'd refused to find out the sex of the baby prior to the birth. He'd somehow remembered the name I'd chosen with Lilly back in our innocent days of dreaming of living next to each other with two point five kids, white picket fences, and large houses: Lauren because I'd really been into Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart at the time and Kathleen for my paternal grandmother who'd taught me how to make snickerdoodles.

"Oh and filled out the blank next to mine."

His eyes skimmed the page until he reached the part where his name was inserted in the correct box.

"But...I'm not...I mean...Ted's her dad."

I stood and touched his arm.

"No, Ted's the sperm donor. _You're_ her dad."

His lashes swept down but not before I saw a gleam of tears.

"You haven't told him about her yet. It should be his name."

I smiled and went into his arms, feeling them automatically curve around me. I laid my head against his heart, reassured by the steady beat. This man had always come through for me in so many ways over the years and never asked for much. I, on the other hand, had always demanded more and more proof, never satisfied with what he gave me, blind to the essential truth that underscored our every interaction: Logan Echolls loved Veronica Mars to the last drop of his heart's blood.

"Whatever Ted is to her in the future doesn't negate your presence in her life. You are her dad in every important way I can think of now and your role will grow as she does."

He kissed my forehead and cradled me even as his face reflected awe at being included so much into our lives. I hadn't realized he'd felt his connection to us was so tenuous. As usual, he'd given to me unstintingly and I'd accepted it as my due, taking him for granted as much as Lilly ever had. I stepped back and drew another breath for courage and drew my sundress over my head, standing before him in a brand new matching underwear set I'd bought a few days ago hoping he'd see.

"What're you doing, Ronnie?"

I looked at him cross-eyed.

"Um...this is a tender moment that I was thinking could be celebrated in the most elemental way..."

I could feel a blush working over my exposed skin and dropped my arms to cover my mid section as I belatedly remembered the scar bisecting my abdomen. The bemusement dropped from his face at my action and he carefully placed the birth certificate on his dresser before drawing me over to his bed. He laid me on my back and drew a finger down my chest, circling my nipples through the bra, then stopping where the doctor had torn me open to get Lauren out. Okay, maybe not _torn_ but my stomach was no longer pretty. I startled when he bent his head to trace it with his tongue.

"I love this scar. You know why?"

Mesmerized by the feeling of wet heat and softness, I shook my head no.

"This is the only one between the two of us that is a celebration of life instead of a reminder of pain or death."

I startled both of us when I burst into noisy tears, his name a stuttering mantra on my lips. He weathered the storm by curling his larger warmer body around mine, and cuddling me while whispering in his warm and whiskey-rough voice how much he loved me. I tucked my head against his shoulder and wet his t-shirt.

"I had a tubal ligation after I had Lauren."

It was both terrifying and relieving to finally tell him the heavy secret I'd carried in my heart, weighing on me every moment I saw him with the Bulge. He really was a natural, better equipped to handle her fussiness, and I knew, _knew_, he deserved more kids, but I'd taken the option away from him with my usual selfishness because _I_ didn't want any more. Logan tipped my chin up with a forefinger and kissed my lips sweetly.

"Veronica, I love Lauren. I really do. But _you're_ all I've ever dreamed of and ever wanted. If we never had Lauren, I would still be happy alone with you. I've been obsessed with you since I was sixteen year old, though Lilly always thought since I was twelve."

I snorted and hiccuped, a snot bubble leaking out the end of my nose, and I drew back embarrassed. Why can't I be a pretty crier like girls on TV?

"What do you mean, since you were twelve?"

He rolled over and grabbed a tissue from the box on his nightstand and handed it to me, giving me a moment to compose myself.

"Remember that Homecoming when Lilly asked what I thought the first time I met you?"

I nodded as that night was one of the last good memories we had as a group. I was more intrigued by the hint of red along his cheekbones; Logan wasn't easily embarrassed. His response of me being hot had been unexpected yet a little thrilling to know boys other than Duncan thought I was attractive.

"I know it's considered bad form to talk about sex with another chick when in bed with your present one, but uh, it's kinda pertinent to the story."

Lilly was the only girl in his past I could tolerate hearing about. As long as he wasn't specific.

"I used to always masturbate to a mental image of you in a soccer uniform when I was younger." He laid flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling, avoiding looking at me. "One time, Lilly dressed up in a scantily clad version of it and we had some of the best sex of our relationship. She never asked and I never told, but I...uh...pretended it was you."

I was flabbergasted at his revelation. We weren't close back in the Fab Four days, only brought together by our mutual love of all things Kane, so I didn't know him as well, though at the time I counted him among my best friends. Yet, I never in a million years would've guessed he ever did that. Even during their break up periods, he was constantly thinking of ways to get back with Lilly, using other girls as bait for her jealousy (I squirmed a little knowing I had the same hot button).

"You were so innocent and easily flustered compared to Lilly and me. It was fun to corrupt you in fantasies."

I giggled a little, knowing how true that was. Every time we dated, he would push the boundaries of what I considered acceptable bedroom behavior, drawing me out more and more until it was strange having sex with someone else because they didn't know me as well or need me the same way. I considered myself somewhat conservative and modest, something that probably surprised a lot of people given my public persona, but with him, it was hard to hold on to it when his fingers were applying the right pressure, or his mouth whispering such dirty words, and his...well you get the picture. I rolled over on top of him, ignoring his audible "oof" and stared down at him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I love you sooner. I can't remember a time when you didn't provoke such strong emotions in me." It was hard but I kept my eyes level to his. "I love you Logan Echolls."

He smiled, a deep purely emotional smile only Lauren or I ever saw, and I fell a little more in love with him, something I thought impossible.

"Ditto."


	5. Going To the Chapel

**A/N: Wow, it's the end already! Who would've thunk they would come this far? Yes, it is a wedding because I'm a LoVer and not a fighter (though I don't wear Argyle), so of course I'd give them a happily ever after. I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to read this little story and I swear I'm still working on finishing my other ones ;)**

**Inspiration: "Just a Dream" by Nelly and "****I Hear the Bells" by Mike Doughty **

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><p><em>Who is wise in love, love most, say least – Alfred Lord Tennyson<em>

"Moooom! Dad! Grooooosssss! People might see you!"

I guiltily pulled back from kissing Logan, resting my forehead against his chest.

"This was a good idea?"

I could feel his silent amusement, though not a sign of it would reflect on his face. He was ever aware of Lauren's dignity and wouldn't dare embarrass his princess by mocking her social pain even though right now it was just the three of us in a room far away from prying eyes.

"It's generally okay for married couples to kiss," he gently pointed out.

I rolled my eyes at him, though neither could see my exasperation since my face was still tucked up next to him. He enjoyed saying that word – _married _– every chance he could get. Geesh, make a guy wait twelve years and see how he pays you back.

"Yeah, but you guys aren't married yet."

Was this _my_ child with the thick disapproval in her voice?

"Lauren Kathleen Mars-Echolls!"

I turned my face to stare at her, softening at the sight of her dolled up in a miniature blue version of my new sea-foam green dress, light brown hair pulled into an elaborate yet age appropriate hair style which showed off those gorgeous cheekbones and bright determined blue eyes. She was often mistaken for Logan's child because of the similarity in their coloring, but I saw Ted in her darkened hair (which I still mourned as I remembered the blonde hue she had until she was three) and in her long lanky body. At thirteen she was already taller than me by two inches.

"What, isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?"

The quick thinking retorts was definitely something she inherited from me, and sucked up through osmosis from Logan. I switched my gaze back to my fiance and we exchanged glances, knowing his thoughts as he did mine: surely by now we'd run our course of bad luck and were due smooth sailing, or as much as a Mars-Echolls clan could wrest from the Gods, from here on out.

"Lulu, can you go run down Henry? I swear, I take my eyes off him for a one moment and he's holed up somewhere reading."

Mac's exasperated yet loving tone preceded her; I spied the quick gleam in my daughter's eyes and closed my own for a moment. Surely she was too young to have interest in boys...right? Then I thought back to my own thirteenth year and wanted to grab her as she skipped out to find Henry – it was the fateful year for me when my dancing around with Duncan came to a head and we were officially boyfriend-girlfriend. I stepped back from Logan and shooed him out the door as Mac came sweeping in. It was _my_ wedding day, but the frazzled look on her face was more akin to what I the bride should be experiencing. I gave her the flute of champagne Logan had used as an excuse to see me and bade her to sit down before the mirror.

"I swear Veronica, I'm really regretting helping talk you into using this site for the wedding. The Neptune Online Star reporter was caught sneaking into the kitchen, at least three people brought more than their "plus one" and I'm positive there are attendees who weren't invited at all..."

She trailed off as I grinned at her reflection. If we'd done it in Colorado or any other dozen places I suggested, my idea for a small intimate affair would've held up, but Logan had inexplicably put his foot down and demanded we be wed in Neptune at the Grand. Considering our tumultuous history with the town, it was the last place I would've thought he'd suggest, but since it was the only thing he cared about, I gracefully (after several go-rounds of wheedling, demands, and outright blackmail) acquiesced.

"It's a wonder anyone really cares about us getting hitched."

Mac just stared at me as if I just told her we were broke and were now forced to live in a van down by the Coronado River.

"Are you kidding me? Bad boy Logan Echolls finally gets Veronica Mars to walk down the aisle after chasing her for twenty-five years? Why _wouldn't _that be big news?"

For all of its wealth and important residents living cheek by jowl with the riff-raff, Neptune wasn't a big town, nor had it really expanded in the years since despite numerous incorporation attempts, so many of the same people still lived here. Since we spent our time traveling abroad and living in large metropolitan cities, coming back periodically to visit, I sometimes forgot the almost quaint small town feel where everyone always ended up knowing everyone else's business. Mayberry it wasn't, but for various reasons we'd gone down in the annals of local history as one of the area's most infamous couples. The outside media might've forgotten about the Echolls and Mars families, but Neptune certainly hadn't.

"Not twenty-five years, surely."

It was hard to believe we were in our forties now, when it seemed like yesterday I was pregnant, and the day before that I was crying at Lilly's funeral. My teen years had seemed to drag mercilessly on, each hour an eternity, but since then it seems every time I blinked, I lost a decade.

"Uh huh. Oh, I wasn't sure of the etiquette, but I had the ushers seat Ted and his family on your side."

Her quiet words dispelled the weird trip into my Neptunian past and kicked me right into my more recent one. Logan was the one who'd finally convinced me to tell Ted, and change Lauren's birth certificate so he was listed her father, after years of on and off intense fighting and cold silences. He'd been talking about it since her first birthday, but it was on her fifth one when I finally caved. After four years, Logan finally come up with the perfect argument: did I want her to question her life as I did when I found out I could be Jake Kane's kid instead of Keith Mars'? Since Lauren actually _wasn't_ Logan's, the disquiet would be even more vicious. It was hard for me to face the realization I had made worse decisions than my mother in this – she hadn't known for sure, whereas I did and did it anyway.

"Was I wrong?"

Mac's faltering tone broke me from my silence and I hugged her from behind. It was still hard for me to express my affection aloud to those I loved, but I made a special effort to _show_ it to them in everything I did. She smiled in response and we had a nice moment before the realities of the day knocked on the door and Wallace poked his head in.

"I feel as a man, I should probably make a wise-crack about girl on girl action, but since I'm not Logan and you're about to get married, I'll refrain."

I smiled up at him, my brother from another mother, and reached out to drag him into our impromptu hug-fest. I'd been extremely lucky in life to find three wonderful friends at different points of my life: Lilly when I was a youthful carefree happy girl, Wallace when I was at my lowest and was starting to give into my despair, and finally Mac when I was a hard-nosed Bond in need of a gadget loving computer hacking Q as a sidekick. The vicariousness of my life had taught me to distrust bonding with others, but somehow both had survived the Lilly crucible and stuck by me anyway.

"I heart you guys."

Both exchanged glances then overlapped their hands on my forehead.

"Well, she doesn't _feel_ warm."

I stuck my tongue out at Wallce's snark, then huffed when Mac responded.

"I'm thinking it's a pod person. Normally I would suggest we ice her, but Logan deserves to see her walk down the aisle, even if it's a facsimile. I'm sure we can find the real V during the reception and trade them."

I stuck my fingers in my ears, but it still didn't drown out their conversation.

"But would he be legally married to the pod person?" My erstwhile best friend tapped his chin thoughtfully. "We'd have to consult a lawyer before we did. Maybe we should just hog-tie them both and then let the courts decide."

Mac laughed and stood, her anxiety levels eased. I finished hooking the gorgeous and outrageously expensive earrings Logan bought me for our ten year anniversary then rolled on the beaded bracelet Lauren had given me to fulfill the "something blue" portion of the wedding superstition.

"You do realize I can probably kill you both and get away with it, right? I may not be an agent or PI any more, but I still have a permit for a gun."

With that ominous threat – by the by they look _so_ worried - I focused on the finishing touches of my outfit. The delicately thin straps of Mac's borrowed shoes criss-crossed just above my ankle bones and I worried anew about the tiny heel point. I rarely wore heels so I was worried I would fall as I walked down the aisle; I'd practiced a few times so I wouldn't trip and fall flat on my face. I twitched left then right just to make sure I had put them on correctly, and looked up to see the fleeting glances of amused horror on my friends' faces.

"What? What?'

Wallace eyeballed Mac and inclined his head as if to say _you tell her_ but Mac wasn't having any of it.

"You're her MoH!"

I stifled a giggle at the abbreviation, knowing how much Wallace hated it.

"I'm the Man of Honor, not a Moe. I ain't no Stooge."

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot rapidly.

"And I'm the bride who's supposed to walk down the aisle in ten minutes so freaking tell me what's the deal."

I quickly looked at myself in the mirror to see if my makeup was askew, dabbed at a few loose hairs, and smoothed down all wrinkles. I wasn't as slender as in my younger years, but I still made Logan pant, so I was happy about my figure; yet I didn't see what had caused their reaction.

"It's just...well...you're getting _married! _You look like a bride."

Since this was the plan and one, I might add, Mac had a big hand in, I failed to see her point.

"Yeeessss...?"

Mac's eyes welled with tears and she quickly grabbed for a tissue.

"I just never thought I'd see the day when _Veronica Mars_ would do the normal thing! Well, kinda. I mean, sure, you had the baby, bought the houses, and only _now_ are you making him an honest man, but still"

And there was that word again. Normal. It was one that haunted me since I was sixteen and my world fell apart. I'd chased the ideal of what I thought it meant, of what society told me it meant, and yet it took my kid and a man who never gave up, to bring me to the conclusion, _normal_ was whatever you made of it. Sad, it took me so long to understand that, and put so many people through unnecessary misery, yet looking back, I couldn't change it. If I did, I wouldn't be here now. The road I had taken was curved, bogged down in mud, and had weird detours, but it was still the one I chose. I really hoped the doors were as thick as they looked, otherwise my guests would think there was a pack of crazed monkeys howling in this room.

"Well, you ready to start this stupid thing so we can get to the good part?"

They grinned.

"The reception with an open bar!"

I smirked back, yet privately thought the good part would be when I stood at the end of the aisle with Logan's hand clasped in mine. We were always stronger together than apart and in the last few years we were inseparable. You'd think all the togetherness would be stifling, but we could be joined at the hip yet still do our own thing. I would never tell Logan (though something tells me he probably already knew) but having money and freedom to do with it as we pleased really suited me.

"Hopefully Lulu found our ring-bearer. I could kill that son of mine."

The knock on the door interrupted any more complaints and Lauren peeked her head around.

"Ready Mom? Uncle Wally? Mac?"

We nodded and walked through to the next set of double doors of the Grand's Chapel. I felt a little strange being married in what amounted to a church since neither of us were particularly religious, but it was the biggest room next to the ball room that could hold all of our guests. The doors opened and Lauren started down with her basket of flowers, followed by the thankfully found Henry carrying the rings, and then Mac and Wallace. Logan had a few close enough friends he could've asked to be his best man, but in the end he asked Mac because she'd been there from the first. It would figure an Echolls-Mars wedding would have a male maid of honor and a female best man. I drew a deep breath when it was my turn and carefully wobbled down the aisle; my Pop's conspicuous absence was the only sad part of the whole day, but even that was pushed down when Logan came half-way to meet me.

"I wasn't going to run away."

He grinned as I leaned against him and he helped me to the front.

"As if you'd get far in those shoes. Next time I'll let you wear tennies just so you'll have a sporting head start."

The judge looked slightly askance at our low voiced conversation.

"Oh, so you don't think this time will stick?"

Logan rolled his eyes.

"Please, you probably already have a battery of lawyers waiting in the wings to divorce me and take all my money. I'll become a beggar on the streets until you take pity on me from your golden tower and then remarry me because I'm just that good in bed."

I coughed to disguise my laughter and elbowed him hard in the ribs when the judge frowned and looked back and forth between us. Not everyone got our humor. The ceremony part was brief, as per my instructions, because it was a mere formality. I didn't need a (huge honking diamond worth more than some people's cars) ring to feel married to Logan – the moment I finally chose him, he became it for me, but I did it to satisfy his caveman ways.

"You may now kiss your bride."

I was seventeen again, kissing him on the balcony at Camelot, pressing against him in furtive clenches in the girls' bathroom, sneaking out of the house at midnight to roll with him in the sand; I was close to spinning out of control and Logan's touch was my only anchor. His fingers bit hard into my waist as our kiss deepened and we fell into one another, our spirits joined in ways our flesh longed to emulate; it was only the persistent poking of Lauren's finger in my back and the low buzz of laughter sweeping the audience that ended it. We drew back, our eyes clinging to one another, lips bee-stung, and faces red with passion. Thank the Gods for Ted taking my lovely child (who even now was groaning at how embarrassing her parents were) for the month so Logan and I could go on a honeymoon. It would be the longest I've been apart from her, but Mac assures me it'll be good for Lauren to spend time with her "bio-dad" without me hovering. It's true – when we figured out how to share her with Ted, Logan bought a house nearby so we could still be at hand, but even then it was only for the weekend, not four weeks.

"It'll be fine, sugarpuss. You know how excited she is to go. And if you want to deal with her disappointed bambi eyes _and_ the head tilt, be my guest."

As usual, Logan understood the slight furrow in my brow and responded, soothing me with his insight. He swung me out then lazily looped me back in, the empty dance floor large enough for this maneuver. I knew he'd been taking lessons for our first dance as a married couple, but I hadn't anticipated his verve and was heartily impressed. Eventually, of course, we were surrounded by our well-wishers as they joined us, but even so, I was surprised when Logan's shoulder was tapped for a cut-in.

"Thank you for coming, Harmony."

It probably looked weird for the bride to dance with her step-mother, but since Dad couldn't be here, it made sense. In the years since their marriage, I'd learned to live with his choice, and even became friends with her; I fell in love with her when Dad was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's and she cared for him ceaselessly until he grew so bad, he had to go to a home. It's been a year since, and it's still very hard on all of us, but we're family now so we have each other.

"Honey, you looked so great. I wish Keith could've come."

Logan and I had gone to see him two days ago, hoping he might be lucid enough to attend the wedding. Unfortunately, he'd been in a very bad place – thinking I was Lianne when they first met – so there was no way he could be taken to a new place. Change always upset him and made his condition worse, so I'd been forced to marry without my dad walking me down the aisle. Harmony wiped the tears from my eyes with her thumbs and gave me an equally misty smile. I was relieved when Logan captured me back with the excuse of needing some bride time since he knew I loathed being emotional in public.

"Have I told you how much I ditto you today?"

He grinned down at me, our hands intertwined as we snuck out of the reception. The four hour food, drink, meet and greet was more than enough time spent with all five hundred (or so it felt like) guests invited to this shindig. The elevator doors peeled back and the Penthouse door came into view. It only seemed fitting to have our wedding night in the very room where we first had sex (several glasses of champagne were more than sufficient to drown out the less pleasant memories also associated with the suite), and I turned to nibble on his neck as he fumbled with the door.

"Don't forget to set the alarm so we're up early enough to say good bye to Lauren before she goes to the airport with Ted."

I shrieked when Logan slipped his arms beneath my legs and swung me up into his arms as he carried me over the threshold. I laughed and slapped at his shoulder, but he ignored me until he threw me onto the bed. The suite had changed in décor and style, but it didn't matter because my mind's eye peeled back the passage of time.

"Shut it woman, I have it under control. Now, I always wanted to do that to you. I know technically this isn't our house, but..."

Logan shrugged as he ducked his head to hide his gleaming eyes. The years melted together with the familiar gesture and I saw him at twelve as the uncertain newcomer to Neptune; the angry wounded sixteen year old demanding my loyalty; the seventeen year old flirting via vehicular foreplay; the nineteen year old asking for my love; the twenty-two year old on bended knee. I shook my head and time righted itself again, my sexy forty-something husband standing before me with love and lust clearly written on his face.

"I love you, Logan Echolls. I'll love you until the day I die."


	6. Epilogue

**A/N: I fully intended on the wedding being The End, but I woke up with this scene already written in my head, so I couldn't resist adding it.**

* * *

><p>Lauren drew a deep breath, thankful it didn't catch in a quiver. She'd shed all her tears in private and fiercely hoped she wouldn't break down now; you'd think she would be used to it since it was the third funeral in two years, but living after death never got easier.<p>

"My dad, Logan Echolls, was the greatest man I ever knew. He lived life as fully as possible because he understood the value of what he had."

She hadn't truly known her father until she read his journals, read his life from his point of view, from the beginning of his rocky childhood until the day Veronica finally went somewhere he couldn't follow. There were gaps of time missing, but he was a fairly faithful chronicler and she understood some of the references and short-hand her parents had for as long as she could remember.

"The face he showed the public, one of wit and charm, was both a mask and a true reflection of who he was. He was more than the actor, philanthropist, and philosopher everyone knew. He was also a deeply flawed man who understood the darkest parts of life because he'd lived it and somehow made it through; he didn't allow it to make him weaker, but instead used it to come out stronger.

She still winced when she recalled the accusations she'd hurled at him when she was sixteen, angry because he wouldn't let her go to a party with her friends. She'd said he was a tyrant and if he were really her father, he would give her permission. He'd turned and walked away, quietly closing the door, and it was her mom who angrily explained why Logan didn't want her going. Lauren hadn't known much about Veronica's past, but that day she'd gotten an earful and a clearer understanding of why they did the things they did.

"Dad spanked me once. I can't even remember why, but he was so horrified by what he'd done, he started crying with me. I wasn't even hurt and ended up comforting _him_. Mom told me his biggest fear was he would abuse me as he was abused by his father, but instead of repeating the cycle, it spurred him to donate his time and money to abused children all over the world."

As an only child of two adoring wealthy parents, Lauren could've turned out as spoiled and rotten as the 09ers _they _grew up with, but both refused to allow it, so instead she'd been well-traveled and highly educated, tutored by a battalion of teachers from different parts of the world. It wasn't until she started high school they settled into one residence for more than a few months so she could actually experience public education at its most horrifying. It was, as her dad once said, the gauntlet everyone must go through as a precursor for real life; even for those with money.

"When my mom died two years ago, I was terrified Dad would follow immediately. He loved me, but was obsessed by her. Now normally when I use that term, it's meant negatively, but with them, it's the only word that comes even a smidge close enough to describing their all-encompassing togetherness."

Veronica's death from a burst aneurysm was sudden and shocking. She'd been laughing and alive one minute and dead the next without warning. Lauren's relationship with her mom was complicated and thorny, their personalities too similar and dissimilar for them to be truly at peace with one another, though they were close. She'd often envied her friends who had smooth mother-daughter relations, but in hindsight (and seeing Veronica as Logan had), Lauren wouldn't change a thing.

"When the doctor told me Dad had died of a massive heart attack, I wasn't surprised. It's hard to keep on living when your heart is missing."

Logan's world was knocked off its axis with the loss of his wife and Lauren truly feared she'd lose him to insanity before any other infirmity; yet somehow Mac had managed to tell him the right thing and he'd shaped up, though he was a ghost of the father she'd known. Almost two years to the day of Veronica's death, Logan passed, leaving her with memories and a stack of journals spanning nearly seven decades of life.

"Mom was the practical one of the two, the planner and the doer, while Dad was the dreamer, and I'm a proud reflection of their best traits."

This last part wasn't conceit, but the final words Logan wrote to the child of his heart if not his body as he reread the "fatal arrogance of a self-satisfied asshole who had too much wealth, love, and luck for anyone to ever believe him more than a fictional character." Lauren had laughed at his self-deprecation, knowing he was giving his beyond the grave permission to use him and his life as fodder for a book. Writing was her passion and something she obviously came by naturally; his journals, however, were private and would never be available for public use as they were entirely too honest and raw.

"I love you Daddy, and I know you'll find Mom. If she's not waiting for you, kick her ass for me."

Lauren ended with a tear-stained smile as she carefully upended the urn filled with the mixed ashes of her parents and released them to the capricious ocean breeze; watching as they were carried over the water into the eternal horizon.


End file.
